No Shems Allowed
by Merilsell
Summary: "Stabbing, Lenya could handle. Diplomacy and politics? Not so much." -Velanna and Mahariel bond over the ridiculousness of life in a human dominated society. Dalish/drunken shenanigans and chaos ensue, starring (almost) the whole Awakening crew (& Warden Alistair) Post-Blight, set in the Lenyaverse and during DA:A, but can be read on its own. Warden Alistair/Mahariel. Two shot.
1. Bonding

**A/N:** _Two chapter story set in the Lenyaverse, based on a tumblr headcanon. Post Blight, taking place during mid-DA:A, starring (almost) the whole crew + my OC Cousland Warden Evie/Evelyn. Mahariel/Velanna friendship. Warden Alistair/Mahariel pairing, light/implied sexual content/humor. Basically my attempt at humor and writing something outside my epic-sized story. I really, really enjoyed to write this one, so I hope you will do the same :D_

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 **Chapter 1: Bonding**

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"We should do _what_?"

The human man in front of Lenya bristled and huffed indignantly. The tension built up letting him appear less stocky than he actually was. Though his round face slowly adapting the red hue of his hair certainly compensated for the momentarily loss of volume.

Looking away was all that kept her from rolling her eyes at him and his more lanky neighboring farmer he'd bickered with for the past ten minutes. "Cut the goat in half," she repeated, and the animal in question bleated in response. Or rather, in protest. Lenya could sympathize, for it had to endure these two even longer than she had, hence this solution would be one in kind.

Somewhere outside her vision, she could hear Varel sigh, most likely with resignation. Surely, the first or second time of her holding court in the throne room he'd still tried to intervene, urged her to be more diplomatic and patient. To his credit, he'd long given up on that, and had learned quickly that Lenya was _neither_.

"Arlessa?" The man urged, sounding whiny, confused. It took her a moment to react, to remember that it was really _her_ he meant with that title. Even months in after taking over the arling of Amaranthine to rebuild the Wardens, and thus her being the acting ruler of this predominately _human_ region still felt utterly bizarre and unreal. A notion which quite a few humans shared with her, if the rumors of an assassination plot were to believed.

 _Been there, done that_ , Lenya thought, not less bored. Though she would actually prefer a dozen crows and/or nobles descending from the throne room's ceiling than listen any further to the petty squabbles of too many humans still in line for an audience. Stabbing, she could handle. Diplomacy and politics? Not so much. Alongside the utterly stupid title of 'Hero Of Ferelden' she was certain that it all belonged to a subtle but elaborate revenge plan of Queen Anora, for not sparing her father's life. That and her severe allergy to Alistair taking over this whole Arl part, of course. As if sitting here on this sorry excuse of a throne would rekindle his already tepid wish to become king and overthrow her after all. Hah, she'd bet it would rather have the exact opposite effect.

Her eyes narrowed at the thought, inwardly cursing her lover for lucking out on passing this position. And of course Alistair wasn't even there today to quell her boredom while holding court. Instead he was out in the city, looking into the same assassination plot Lenya wished to happen _right now_ , probably even stabbing people for information.

Life wasn't fair.

The goat bleated anew, keenly reminding her that she still needed to elaborate. Straightening her hurting back, she looked back and forth between the two farmer. "Each of you is saying that the other stole the goat, thus one word stands against the other. I have no evidence to disprove either of it, so sharing the goat would be the compromise."

"But the goat -"

By Mythal, if she had to hear that man saying 'the goat is mine' one more time, she'd stand up and cleave the animal in half herself. "Isn't he your neighbor, though?" Lenya quickly cut him off.

The red-haired man frowned. "Yes, but..."

"Then he is part of your _close_ community, even." She tried her best to not let the contempt for some of these humans' selfishness bleed into her voice. For her as a Dalish it was utterly incomprehensible how someone could argue over resources much better spent shared. "I'm aware the times are trying right now after the Blight, which is all the more a reason why you should support each other, like communities do. It is really not that hard a concept." Well, _trying_ had here been the operative word, after all. She heard Varel sigh anew, while ushering them away.

Collectively muttering under their breath as they turned away, both men clearly were not satisfied with this solution. If its reluctance to follow was any measurement, the goat was neither.

 _Tough luck,_ Lenya thought, but seeing the sheer mass of people still waiting, she also applied these words to herself. Sinking back into the hard seat of her throne, she braced herself for the next one in line and the many hours of complains still to endure and address.

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 **::::**

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"Stupid humans and their stupid politics," Lenya groused, far more many hours later than wished or expected.

"I agree."

She flinched upon the unexpected answer, half-expecting to see Seneshal Varel there to reel her back in after bailing on him. Apparently, his idea of unwinding after dreary hours in court included such fun things as writing report letters to the warden main quarter.

Creators, that man must be the life of every party.

Not to mention that it was somehow surprising that there was even still correspondence to be held with Weißhaupt after her first letter containing a colorful collection of her best swearing words to the First Warden. This was only to thank him for his oh so helpful support during the Blight, of course. Perhaps Varel had intercept and changed the letter before sending it. Nosy as he was, it would be fitting an action for him.

It was however Velanna who looked at her upon turning. Still undecided if this was an improvement, Lenya kept her wary stance. The couple weeks ever since she'd become a Warden had been...trying, to say the least. Not only did Velanna never miss one opportunity to make her disdain known for her relationship with Alistair, a human, but she also remembered Lenya way too much on how she'd been back in the day. Maybe this was why she showed uncharacteristically so much patience for the acerbic, standoffish behavior of her fellow Dalish.

Lenya knew too well how it was to lose someone close, to be thrown out into the world of the humans with no way to return to your old life or clan. For Velanna it was her sister instead of a best friend she'd lost, for whom she'd even joined the Wardens, in order to be able to pursue Seranni and the darkspawn holding her captive. Certainly not the most unambiguous motive to ultimately taint and damn yourself to a life of hunting darkspawn. However given the still ongoing shortage of Wardens in Ferelden, Lenya took what she could get. If only the Dalish mage wouldn't always feel the need to comment on her relationship with Alistair. Or sounding like a yesteryear version of herself, for that matter, that would be great, thanks.

"...do it."

Lenya's head snapped up, blinking at the blonde Dalish, as if in a daze. "Huh?"

Velanna rolled her eyes with an accompanying sigh, yet found the grace in herself to repeat her sentence. "I don't know how you do it."

"Because I must?" The scoff escaped her almost at its own volition but her stance relaxed in contrast. She had no desire for yet another discussion or confrontation with Velanna, not after so many hours spent talking and debating in court today. "Look, Velanna, I'm tired, hungry and not in mood to fight with you."

"Who said I want to fight?" The Dalish frowned at her, which furrowed the lines of her _vallas'lin_. "I simply can't understand how you can endure the constant drone of _their_ whining. For hours, even. I would have called down lightning on their heads after mere minutes."

Lenya wanted to mention how she'd already done exactly that with a group of humans she wrongly believed responsible for her comrades' deaths and kidnapping of her sister not long ago. Though belatedly she remembered how this would very much contradict her prior words and only lead to more friction. "I was tempted to," she said instead, forcing a smile. "At least to stand up and walk out on them, that is." Idly she wondered what Varel would have done then, or why he hadn't tried to reign her in again for the task she'd abandoned.

Letting her eyes wander to the flickering, large centred hearth fire, she noticed how its warm glow drew long shadows upon the rough stone wall and its high-arched windows. Daylight was slowly fading away, making her wonder when Alistair and his party would finally return from Amaranthine City. She could really use his presence, for a hug or two, and maybe even more for losing this damn tension that had been steadily building up inside of her body all day. Lenya rolled her shoulders and hated the strain within. It wasn't the good kind of ache either, like after a battle. No her muscles and back did hurt from sitting on her ass all day. _Ugh_.

"Why you did stay then? Why do you always do their bidding?" Her question pierced through the stillness that had laid itself over the dormant main hall like a cloud. It was posed without the initial malice in her voice and yet Lenya couldn't help but to let out an annoyed groan.

 _Not this again._

She'd discussed this matter time and time again with Velanna, even seized the argument of duty she hated so much to hear herself. Feeling a pressure building up behind her skull again, she motioned Velanna to follow her. Fresh air was what Lenya needed most now, and if she wanted any answers the mage would have to pursue them in the courtyard.

Besides, leaving the stuffiness of the main hall behind also had the nice side-effect that Varel couldn't find her at first glance. Lenya liked if he had to put at least a bit effort in catching her. For all the boring, if necessary, paperwork he made her do, even after a day of court hearing, this was only fair.

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 **::::**

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The air smelled like rain, fresh and cold. Dark clouds overhead were stealing even the remaining vestiges of daylight and heralded a downpour soon to follow.

Lenya didn't mind. She was used to Ferelden's fickle weather and its briskness, even amidst late spring. Taking a deep breath, she leaned herself back at a stone pillar, savoring the crisp smell and stillness of this place. Back in her clan, she used to break away and seek out places of solitude, whenever the commotion became too much to bear for her.

Nowadays however, with the tasks of an Arlessa added to the already weighty responsibilities of being a Warden, Ferelden's acting commander, even, she found less and less a chance for doing so. Sure, there always were these stolen moments with Alistair in between their shared duties. Not to mention these passionate nights spent entwined together, or stay in bed mornings, but these were becoming more rare and rare occasions in times of food shortages, assassination plots, and talking, intelligent darkspawn. As if a bloody archdemon hadn't been enough already.

Lenya sighed into descending darkness above, while first driblets of rain greeted and wetted her face.

"Brr," a voice said behind her, shuddering. "I do not see the point of having walls around oneself, if you are just as cold outside as you are _inside_ these walls."

So much for peace and quiet. Turning, Lenya looked at her fellow Warden still standing in the courtyard's door frame. "It is easier to endure harsh weather like a storm on the inside of four solid walls than in a tent or _aravel_ , believe me," Lenya offered with a shrug. "It took me some time to get used to it myself though."

Velanna eyes narrowed, their glow in the half-dark diminishing. "And now you are?"

"Sort of." Lenya watched her approaching, how she reached out to the open sky to catch the raindrops now falling in a more steady, quicker rhythm. "I still prefer open space and finding a patch of nature, whenever I can, which isn't often lately, alas."

"So I have noticed." The mage tilted her head, appraised her. "You do their bidding, live in stony buildings just like-"

"Just because I don't hug trees or live in the forest anymore, doesn't mean I am less Dalish!" Lenya burst out, fed up. "You know what? Forget it." The dramatic gesture of her departure was severely undercut by Velanna's flat palm at her shoulder, stopping her.

"Creators, I didn't mean to..." she sighed, frustrated. Falling silent, her ears twitched once, twice. Then Lenya felt something cool and heavy within her hands, before Velanna reestablished the prior generous personal space between them.

"What is this?" She looked down, recognized the object as a bottle of wine.

"A peace offering. Or rather...a thank you for the book you gave me last week. I do not like to feel indebted to you." She glanced away, then up into the rain-filled sky. "I have decided to fill its empty pages with new stories of our people. For those who come after me, be it my own children or other _da'len_ of my- _a_ clan."

Lenya didn't miss the hitch in her voice as she quickly corrected herself. Come to think of it, Velanna hadn't spoken of her clan yet, beyond of being a First and her derision for most of her Keeper's decisions. It seemed generally a touchy subject for her with which Lenya could well emphasize, given her own...rebellious history with her own clan. Her intent to officially bond with a human naturally didn't help to smooth matters over much either.

"You must take me for a sentimental fool," Velanna scoffed, obviously misunderstanding her silence for something negative.

"No, not all," she rushed to say before her fellow Dalish could copy the attempted dramatic of her departure just moments ago. "It is a nice idea, actually."

Y-you really think so?" Whipping around, Velanna's eyes went wide, her tone as hopeful as a child expecting praise. Not a moment later, the ever-prominent scowl found its way back into her features. "Not that I care."

Arching an eyebrow, Lenya laughed out a snort. If traveling a year with Morrigan had taught her one thing, it was the more someone emphasized their indifference for an opinion or person, the more they most likely _cared_ about it. Unless they really were as callous and cold an ass as they pretended to be, but this was Velanna definitely _not_. Lonely perhaps, a bit cynical and awkward toward other people certainly, though not callous by far.

"Yes, I think so." She nodded, showing her an honest smile. "We Dalish have lost so much, most of which we can never recover. But we can always create and add new tales of and for our people. A history which is actually remembered this time."

"Ah." There flitted something akin to humor over Velanna's face, tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You mean, like the story of a Dalish Warden, who slayed an archdemon, stopped a Blight in under a year, _and_ lived?"

"Ugh. I'm _quite_ sick of hearing that one already." She wrinkled her nose. "At the last _Arlathvhen_ just months ago _,_ there was a teenage girl, from Clan Lavellan I believe, who _kept_ staring at me. All the time. Basically they all did that, gaping at me as if I was some kind of reincarnated elvhen god." She groaned. "Very annoying."

"Oh yes, must be so hard to be revered as hero by our People. Poor you."

Ignoring the sharp bite of sarcasm, Lenya rolled her eyes at her. "On the plus side, for all their staring, they at least didn't cook up yet another stupid title for me."

"The Hero of Ferelden," Velanna said deliberately, as if testing each of the words in her mouth. Then, she snorted. "It is indeed silly. Who came up with that?"

"Queen Anora. The Arlessa thing is also her damn fine work."

"Of course," her huff ended in a sneer, she'd come to know so well of the mage. " _Humans_."

"Yeah, them..." she sighed into the night. None of them spoke for a long while after that, and the pitter-patter of rain upon the cobblestone became the only audible sound. It was nice, actually. Lenya could appreciate the company of someone who didn't always feel the need to fill silence with needless words. Something Alistair had to slowly learn over time, while being with her. Not that it stopped him from falling into this old habit from time to time, nonetheless.

"Do you ever wonder how it would been, if Arlathan hadn't fallen?"

"Yes, sometimes maybe," Lenya confessed with a half-shrug. "Our people would have a permanent home then, instead of being forced to wander, I guess." She smirked at her. "Oh, and you would be much grousing less about humans then, that's for sure."

"And you would have a better taste in...your bondmate," came as deadpan answer.

 _This again?_ Though now it lacked her usual disdain, so Lenya decided to humor her. "Alistair?" She blinked rapidly, faking confusion. "What about him?"

"Ugh." Her face twisted in a scowl. "He is..."

"...different," Lenya finished, unbidden. "You know, _some_ humans aren't bad."

"Yes, sure. Until you have outlived your usefulness to them and they try to get rid of you." The mage gave her a pointed look.

"You mean my assassination some of these petty noble assholes have allegedly planned?" Lenya shrugged, couldn't care less. "Pfft, some of my best friends wanted me dead at first. A whole army of darkspawn with an archdemon at the top _definitely_ wanted me dead. Several antivian crows, bandits and other assassins tried to murder me as well. So it must be Tuesday."

"You are...disturbingly unfazed by all this."

Lenya snorted joylessly. "You would be too, after living through all this shit for over a year. Just give it time." Finally she managed to uncork this damn stubborn bottle with her skinning knife after battling with it for several minutes. Taking a small sip of the wine to probe its taste, her expression lightened up immediately. "Oh, this is _Dalish_ wine. Much better than the box of sickening sweet Orlesian swill Evie just brought in from her last palace visit. A gift from the queen, or something Evie talked her into giving her, dunno. You know how good she is with politics and words. Comes with a noble upbringing, I guess."

"Yes, this human always speaks too many for my taste." Velanna squinted first at the bottle, then at her. "So you...like the wine?" She glanced away, her shoulders sagging. "It is the last thing I had left from my clan."

Upon hearing that, Lenya nearly spat out the mouthful of wine, shocked. "And you give it to _me_ then?" she managed after swallowing and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Seeing the scowl curling back into the Dalish's expression, she hurried to add. "Not that I don't like it, I _do_ , but shouldn't you rather keep it then?"

"Why?" Her lips pressed into a fine line. "As a sentimental monument to times past? Don't be foolish. Like I said, I simply don't like feeling indebted to you. This..." Velanna gestured to the wine bottle."...makes us even."

Lenya didn't fail to recognize the irony of Velanna -of all people- not wanting to preserve a thing from past times, though omitted to mention it. "I see," she simply said instead, nodding. "Well then, I insist on sharing the wine with you, at least."

Before the mage could protest, she ushered her back inside and toward the kitchen. "And with that I mean _all_ of the wine."

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	2. Arlathan

**.**

 **Chapter 2: Arlathan**

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Maker, he was so glad to be finally back.

Standing under Vigil's Keep shielding rock at last, Alistair shook himself. It was far less effective a maneuver than Shira shaking off the water of her fur of course, which was also due to him being drenched to the _bones_. At least the massive downpour took care of the darkspawn entrails prior plastered to his armor. Well mostly, that was. He shuddered again, hated the fact to be kept so long from a nice warm place by an unforeseen darkspawn ambush, after their trip into the city. Darkspawn who now talked back at them and used intricate battle formations to counteract their own. Funny how killing these bastards were far less complicated during a damn Blight going on, of all things.

"Bronto Piss! This sodding, nughumping open sky with its too much sodding water falling down from this gaping hole."

Even long before Oghren became even visible in the encroaching darkness, his tirade made clear how he felt about the weather, and most likely everything else today. Stopping, the mabari turned with a low whine, unwilling to go inside without her mistress at her side. Evelyn appeared with Anders in tow not a moment later, and eager to finally reach the first dry place in hours, they quickly pushed past him. Nathaniel only huffed out a grunt, probably hoping his everlasting brooding aura would repel any excess water on its own.

Upon reaching the main hall however, all four Wardens came to a screeching halt so suddenly that he nearly barreled into the group, after absentmindedly following them inside. Forgetting every complain about the weather and their own drenched state, they fell silent and collectively gaped at a particular corner of the throne room.

Alistair blinked, slowly. Once, twice, simply hoping he'd seen it wrong. Towering over them with his height, he looked over their heads at it again. Nope, still there.

Oghren was first in breaking out of their wide-eyed, speechless stupor and doubled over in bellowing, rough laughter. "By the stone's pebbled balls," he snorted, loudly. "Missy sure knows how to party."

That was one way of putting, the very recent, um, _redecoration_ of said corner and the whole main hall, basically, in words.

The two dark, elongated and massive dinner tables were no longer visible, buried as they were under a rather oddly precisely placed assorted mishmash of bedsheets, curtains and drapes. On top of the hidden table and some stray griffon banner, chairs were stacked. And not only _some_ chairs, no. Alistair was pretty damn sure that this was the whole inventory of every chair in Vigil's Keep ever. Same could be said for the extensive collection of pillows and cushions, which were placed on top and around the table. It did build a massive trench, as if intended to keep others out. The air around them was leaden with the smell of wine, and faint but distinctive _giggling_ came from the impressive pillow-fort's center.

To top it all off, hastily glued together pieces of vellum served as huge sign in between chairs, on which was drawn in scrawly writing: _Shemlen suck. Elvhen rule._

"This is... _new_ ," he eventually managed, unable to stop staring at the...everything of it.

"Soooo," Anders drawled, turning around to him with a bemused grin, his gaze questioning upon himself. "Is _this_ what happens when she gets bored?" Then, falling back into his cocky smile routine, the mage added, "Maybe this is just me, but I feel you don't tire the Commander out enough at night, Alistair."

"Nope, not just you," Evie agreed in a cheery sing-along, barely containing her amusement. _Damn her!_ She picked up an emptied wine bottle Shira held in between her massive jaws, pointedly ignoring his glare as she praised her dog. "Good girl."

Oghren was still snort-laughing and it didn't look as if was stopping any time soon.

"Did you hear that?" Nathaniel squinted past the centred hearth-fire, taking a step forward as he strained his ears. Hit by his momentum, _another_ empty wine bottle clinked and skittered away over the patterned stone ground. Maker, how many were there? Did he even want to know?

The dwarf's sniggering made it nigh impossible to distinguish what sound Nathaniel meant, so Alistair elbowed Oghren and reprimanded him to be silent. Rolling his eyes at first, he eventually complied and stifled the remainder of his amusement into choked snorts. With him no longer obstructing the source of sound, Alistair could hear it too. It was a muffled sound, as if someone was persistently yelling and knocking on wood.

"There!" Nathaniel pointed to a hallway behind to the throne and rushed to it, Alistair and others in tow. On his way passing the pillow fort to what seemed the door to the larder, he stumbled over two other bottles of wine, both as empty as the others.

Arriving at the door in question, subtly decorated with a sign saying " _No shems allowed!_ " in the same scrawly writing like the other one placed on top of the tables. Underneath the vellum, a fine layer of a magical barrier flickered in an unnatural light, causing Nathaniel to frown at it.

"Hello?" The voice behind the door sounded much like a panicked version of Mistress Woolsey, and had a shrill note. "Is there someone? Help us we are locked in here."

The creak of wet metal rang as Oghren heaved an armored shoulder to a shrug. "Well at least they won't sodding starve to death." He grimaced at the water still dripping from himself. "But I will of cold, if I don't get out this bloody armor." Not a moment later, he started to unbuckle the straps of his heavy armor, slowly dressing down amidst the hallway.

"W-what are you doing?" Evie sounded almost as shrill as the captive treasurer as she waved about at him letting the parts of armor fall where he stood.

The dwarf rolled his eyes at her. "What does it look like, princess?" With not a care for the world or people around him, he continued to undress.

"Time and place, Oghren." Towering over him with her sheer bulk and height, she looked as if she was ready to punch him out. "This is _neither_."

"Heh, instead of whining like a tea kettle, you better undress soon too, princess. Lest your noble bum gets cold."

"Yes, I will," she hissed through gritted teeth, still glaring at him but stepping back. "In my own room. As should _you_."

"Evelyn? Oghren?" Another voice, Varel, broke through their bickering, halting it. He let out a relieved sigh. "Thank the Maker you are here."

"Yes we are," Nathaniel replied in their place. "Don't worry we will get you out of there." Considering how his frown deepened, the door seemed to win the ongoing staring contest between them. "As soon we have figured out to break the magic barrier."

 _Ah. Of course._ "Let me..." Alistair motioned him to step aside, intended to use his templar talents to dispel the ward. Before he could concentrate enough to call it forth however, there was an electrical charge rushing through the air, followed by a scream and a loud _thump_. Alerted by it, Evelyn ran past him and back into the main hall containing the elvhen pillow fort.

"Ouch!" a voice cried out, unmistakably belonging to Anders. "These bloody elves have-"

"Andersss, Anderssss, can't even take a ganderssss! Andersss, Anderssss, can't even take a ganderssss!"

Not only had Lenya and Velanna apparently mined the pillow trench with magical runes, they even managed to make up a mocking, if slurred, song on the fly, effectively shutting the mage up. If it weren't all complete chaos left to handle for him, Alistair would even be inclined to give credit to their booze-induced creativity.

Deciding Varel and the others were more safe _behind_ the door than freed at the moment, Alistair spun to return to the main hall as well. "Nate...stay here at the door and..." He blinked back at the dwarf and immediately regretted it, for he was completely undressed by now, save for his unmentionables. "...um, watch Oghren?"

"Don't need to, heh." He showed him a toothy grin, and patted his naked, hairy and round belly. "See ya later boy. I'm gonna sit down by the fire now to warm up. Missy better left any of the booze in this sodding keep untouched, especially mine!" With that, Oghren spun on his bare heels and left into the opposite direction.

"You forgot your armo-" Alistair stopped with a sigh. Why did he even bother?

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 **::::**

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"They took _my_ blanket!"

As soon Alistair re-entered the throne room, Anders didn't waste any second to complained to him with the indignation of a five years old. Dressed down to his breeches, the mage looked positively disheveled, his long hair standing up on all ends. Which was probably due to the electrical charge of the runes and _also_ the reason why Evelyn was now the one doubled over in snorting laughter. Shira jumped up and down in front of her mistress, woofing happily along. All the while the giggling of both elves never abated.

 _Great_.

Too caught in his own misery to notice Evie's amusement about his rumpled looks, Anders pointed at a vague spot high up the pillow fort. "And they took my cat!" He flailed about, tone whiny. "Do something!"

At that, a pair of light-reflecting cat eyes blinked down from the elevated cushioned seat within the magically warded area. Ser Pounce-a-lot yawned lazily and let out a content _meow_ , blissfully unaware of his owner's distress. Or he simply didn't care, which given how comfortable he looked on top of the pillow fort was more likely.

"Oh, Maker..." On days like this, Alistair idly wondered if leading a country wouldn't have been easier than...whatever _this_ was. Though as quickly as the thought came, he dismissed it again. Chaotic as it was at times, he wouldn't want to miss it for all in Thedas. Well, this situation in particular he'd gladly pass up on, of course, but this sense of belonging and purpose along with always being side by side with the love of his life? Nope. _Never_.

Come to think of it, Lenya owed him big time for wreaking such havoc in their home. The rare times she'd been too deep in the cups, he'd gotten to know her as a lazy drunk, who became laid-back, relaxed and cuddly. A bit giggly too perhaps, sometimes even, _ahem_ , horny, but never as productive and hyper as she'd been tonight. Taking this knowledge, he could try to make her come out of her fort by appealing to her heightened need to, well, snuggle. Yes, this angle could work, with added benefits for himself, even.

Though he should probably deal with Anders first. Twitchy mages were never a good thing.

"Tell you what: Why don't you go and aid Nathaniel in dispelling the ward at the door to free Varel and the others?" I will deal with, um, _that_ , and get your cat back."

"And my blanket!" Anders huffed, eyes narrowed. He drove a hand through his mussed hair, futility attempting to straighten it out again. "Or I'll set them _both_ on fire!"

"Yes, yes." Alistair waved him off like a father did with an indignant child. With Anders vanishing into the other room, Evie finally started to calm down again. Alistair threw her a pointed look.

"What?" Evie chortled, shrugging at his gaze. "It _is_ funny."

"Right," he retorted in the most sarcastic tone possible. "I can hardly contain myself." A pause. "Don't you want to continue laughing at Anders in the other room?"

Cousland regarded him, amused. "Oh no, I'll stay here." Then she leaned herself at a wooden beam, and adapted a relaxed pose, in spite of her warden plate armor. "I wouldn't want to miss _this_ for the world."

"Suit yourself." Turning away from her again, Alistair decided to no longer care for her antics, or presence. His eyes focused on the pillow fort in front of him, while he started to undo the straps of his armor. Not only needed he to get out of this drenched thing anyway, it could also proof effective to motivate Evelyn to leave after all. Seeing how non-existent her interest in men were, especially watching men _undressing_.

"Leeenyaaaa," he tried, drawling out her name, while methodically dressing down. He didn't plan to imitate Oghren in this regard, but what was the harm in already losing all the bulky armor parts? The rest could -and would- follow later, in private. "Love, I'm back."

She replied with a non-committal grunt, followed by a giggle. Or maybe the grunt had been Velanna's, it was hard to say.

" _Atisssh_ -" Lenya started, before Velanna hushed her.

"Nooo sssshems, rememberrr?"

She however was having none of it. " But 's Alistair. 's okay!" she explained to her with slurred words, eliciting another, now peeved, grunt from the elvhen mage.

So far so good, for she was receptive to his words. He stepped closer to their fort, though remained a respectful distance to the magical runes hidden within. "It's been a loooong day, Len," Alistair added, deliberately slow. He drew out each word, his voice warm and dipping low. "And I'm tired. So I want to go to bed now. I was just wondering..." He swore he could _hear_ how Evelyn rolled her eyes behind him. "...if you are coming with me? Oooor do I have to sleep alooone tonight?"

"Really? _This_ is your brilliant plan?" Evie replied in Lenya's place, huffing out a long, suffering sigh. Meanwhile both women begun arguing, one slurred elvhen word following the next.

He took the moment to glance at Evelyn over his shoulder with a grin, and shrugged. "You wanted to stay here, remember?"

Then, there was a loud crackle, the telltale sound of magic being diffused. Other than expected, it didn't came from the hallway where Anders and Nathaniel still worked on opening the magically barred door, but the center of the main hall. As Alistair turned to the source of the sound, he saw a flash of blonde hair running toward him.

 _"Atiiiish'aaaaaan!"_

Having no time to prepare for the impact of a distinctive elven-shaped ball jumping him, he was nearly thrown down to the ground. Instead, Alistair just crashed into the wooden beam behind him, thankfully hindering his fall. It still did hurt, of course, though he was quickly distracted by the way her firm legs wrapped itself around his waist, and, oh Maker, _wriggled_ as she searched for purchase. Instinctively, his arms wound around her, pressing her even closer to him. It was, after all, the only sensible thing to do. Then again, he suddenly struggled to think straight for some reason.

Encouraged by his reaction, Lenya continued her onslaught with a series of sloppy kisses into his neck. "Mmmissed you," she mumbled into his skin, her breath hot and smelling of sweet, fruity wine. Also, he noticed, she wasn't wearing any pants, which didn't exactly made this whole rational thinking thing any easier.

Belatedly, he remembered how his dear commander was currently somewhat _mooning_ her fellow Warden, long, oversized tunic in spite, and thus quickly turned her away from Evelyn's sight. "Love, where are your breeches?" Alistair asked, when she finally paused her affections for a moment.

Looking up to him, Lenya only shrugged. " 's hot in there. Sssooo, I got rid of it. I'm Dalish and we need no pants in _Arlath'an_." To demonstrate her point, she tugged at her _other_ pants with a giggle.

"No, no, no." He grasped her wrist. "The undergarment stay on, Len." _For now._

"Thank the Maker for small mercies." Instead of annoyed, Evie sounded amused, way too much for his taste, that was.

Glancing past Lenya, who busied herself with poking his face, he couldn't help to smirk at her in triumph. "See? It did work!"

The poking of his face stopped. "You're ssssooo wet, _Atish'an_."

"Yes, it did rain a lot today, dear," he replied absentmindedly, his focus still on Evelyn.

"Then I'm gonna _lick_ you dry," Lenya decided and languidly drove her whole tongue from his throat to his jawline, and over the shell of his ear. Stumbling back, he felt his eyes rolling back into his head, unable to stop the moan escaping him.

Someone next to him cleared their throat, bringing him back to reality. Turning, and subsequently wishing he hadn't, Alistair looked at Varel, whose face had adapted a deep shade of red. Whether it was due to his involuntary time spent in the stuffy pantry, anger, or the situation just observed he couldn't say, nor was he keen to find it out. For the shred of dignity's worth still present, he really, _really_ should let go of Lenya now. Though doing so would reveal other, um, pressing matters to them, and hence was out of the question.

Lenya giggled into his shoulder, completely unbothered by the sudden audience. "Fuuuuunny..." she said, loud and clear for everyone to hear, "...first I poked you and now you are poking me!" Alistair let out a weak whimper, distantly wishing for a hole to appear and swallow him completely.

"Yep, it all worked brilliantly, indeed, Theirin." Patting his free shoulder, Evie laughed out and slipped past her fellow Wardens to leave, Shira in tow. Her laughter rang through the Keep's hallway, even long after she wasn't visible anymore.

And while Alistair wallowed in between self-pity upon the embarrassing situation at hand and useless indignation upon Evelyn daring to use _that_ name, Lenya squinted at the group beside them. "Waddah ya want?"

"Oh, I don't know, Commander," Anders bit out, pushing past the others. "How about my blanket?" Leave it to the mage to care about the things that _really_ mattered. "And-"

"-the fact that you locked in Varel and the others in the larder and magically locked the door," Nathaniel interrupted him, and warped Anders' words to something more, well, substantial.

Lenya made a face, then pointed sloppily to the still intact pillow fort, from which now emitted a strange but soft snoring sound. "'s wasn't me. 's was Vaa-Velen-Velanna," she finally managed and nodded, thoroughly content with this explanation.

"...my cat!" Anders finished his sentence in spite. He was persistent, Alistair had to give him that. Jumping down from his cushioned seat, Ser Pounce-a-lot finally found it in himself to appear in front of his owner.

"There you have your cat." Ser Pounce-a-lot blinked up, first to Anders, then to Alistair and meowed loudly, as if agreeing. A mistake obviously, since Lenya now became aware of the small animal beneath her.

"C-caaat," she shrieked while squirming in his arms, effectively causing very unhelpful friction between them. He felt suddenly very hot, drenched clothes notwithstanding. "Shoo, shoo," Lenya gestured into Ser Pounce-a-lot's general direction, and pressed her chest closer to his, fearful. Alistair bit down hard on his insides of his mouth and idly wondered how or why his head hadn't exploded yet. Perhaps because all the blood had already rushed...elsewhere.

"Pfft, you and your fear of cats," Anders' eyes narrowed at her. "This isn't normal. Grow up."

 _Pot meets kettle. Pot meets sodding kettle._

Lenya bestowed it with the dignified answer it deserved, and blew raspberries in his direction.

"Come Ser Pounce-a-lot, we are going!" The animal replied with another meow and followed the huffing and puffing mage, who reclaimed his beloved blanket before finally vanishing. Alas it also elicited the same squirming motion from her, flush against him. Alistair wanted to cry, his already thin patience frazzling. Maker's bloated ass, why were so many people still standing about here anyway?

"Can't we discuss all this tomorrow?" he ground out, his voice hoarse. "When Len...the Commander is sober again and is actually wearing pants? That would be great, thanks."

"Mmhm," she agreed. "Sssleepy noow."

Nathaniel cleared his throat, looking away. "And not nuzzling your throat..." Ah yeah, _that_.

"Get a room, you two nughumpers, heh," resounded from across the hall, before the door closed again with a bang.

Alistair bit down a whimper. _I'm trying._

"You are right, Warden Alistair," Varel agreed, however reluctantly. He shifted, visibly uncomfortable. "Err...rest would do us all good now. We shall resolving this matter and chaos tomorrow."

Distantly behind him, he heard Nathaniel sighing. "Right. I will take care of Velanna, then."

"Just, um, what I wanted to hear, thanks. Bye, then." Red-faced, Alistair practically fled away from them with Lenya in his arms. It was better this way, lest he started doing things here, which weren't very much suitable for an audience. As he moved forward with quick strides, Lenya wrapped her arms and thighs even tighter around him and added more dreaded _pressure_ this way. She giggled and licked a sloppy trail from his throat over his ear. If he didn't know it any better, he'd say she did all this on purpose.

"I'm gonna ride you like a pony," she whispered into his ear right after, stopping Alistair dead in his tracks. He had nearly dropped her then, if it were not for her own iron grip on him.

Yep, _definitely_ on purpose. Devious minx.

"But what about all this mess?" Madame Woolsey seized the chance to ask the distant but still visible pair, while Alistair still reeled with her unexpected declaration, breathless. "Who is cleaning it up?"

He took several stabilizing breaths through his nose, before trusting his voice enough to speak. Biting down his neck, Lenya did her best to change that again. "Tomorrow..." he ground out with his back turned to them, voice strained and small.

Alistair didn't know how he managed to reach the corner down the hall that shielded them from their stares. Only that he did. The way back to their shared quarters, however, still seemed cruelly long and distant. Having let go of biting his neck at last, Lenya busied herself now with squinting at his ear, while poking the other. "Hmm, _Atish'an_ _,_ your ears aren't really _that_ round as I always thought."

"Fascinating, love." He was too busy to navigate Vigil Keep's many hallways, stairs and corners with her in his arms, to really pay heed to her words.

"Are you a sssecreeet elf?" She beamed at him. "If ssso, you can come with us into our kingdom. 's Arlathan. Vele and I rebuild it!"

Instead of a reply, Alistair let out a relieved sigh, which was due to coming face to face with the door of their room, at last. Fumbling with the doorknob a bit, he managed to open it and immediately rushed to their large bed. Lenya yelped with laughter as he let her plop down onto its mattress. To him, this was the sweetest sound, always would be.

Remembering the open door, he quickly backtracked to kick it closed and turned the bolt. "I don't know," he said, more than a bit out of breath and sweaty. While getting rid of his still wet shirt, he quickly returned to the bedside, and her. "I don't think I'd fit in your pillow fort, err, _Arlathan_. I'm a big guy, after all."

Her gaze flitted down to the very obvious bulge in his breeches with a snort. "Hmhm, _biiig_."

Maker, how much he loved this ridiculous, wonderful woman. Leaning in for a languid kiss, he let her know this. And again, with more fervor, as soon as he'd settled next to her in bed, hovering over her. Nuzzling his throat, she giggled into his skin there. "'s here is _Arlathan_ too, you know?"

He withdrew to look at her. "Oh, really?"

"Yeeep." Lenya nodded, sloppily, under him. He felt her hands tugging at his breeches. "Ssso no pants."

Laughing, Alistair was more than happy to comply.

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Atish'an= Lenya's term of endearment for Alistair. Literally meaning, place of peace, but better translated with "Home."

A/N²: The tumblr headcanon post was this one here:

 _Pretty sure Velanna and Mahariel get drunk one evening, run around stealing all the chairs, pillows, cushions, bedsheets and curtains/drapes and build this massive pillow fort with a giant sign outside it that says "Shemlen suck. Elvhen rule. No shems allowed", and they refuse to leave it for the rest of the night._

Obviously, my story derailed quite a bit from its initial HC/idea. Mostly because I am shameless shipping trash for Alistair and my Warden, but also because bringing (almost) the complete DA:A crew in was too good to let it pass up ;) Review?


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